Our Pit Now
The acquisition of the Void Sea Wrestling arena.
War!
Wild Wraiths Wreak Woe, Wrack Wrestling Wondercard!
An ANTICIPATED BOUT between TITANS of PIT FIGHTING was disrupted by RIOT AND PHANTASM, as an opening shot in a GANG WAR has been fired at THE GRAY CLOAKS by a TEAM OF UNNAMED MISCREANTS.
The bout between working-class hero RED HOT DAN HOUSTON and ambitious social climber ROCK “THE JOHN” DWAYNESTON was interrupted by up-and-coming CAD AND HEEL, BOSS BIGMAN, who savagely attacked both combatants with an ELECTRIFIED BATON. We can also confirm that Houston and Dwayneston WENT OFF SCRIPT before the attack, seemingly attempting to GO INTO BUSINESS FOR THEMSELVES. This incongruity, paired with COPIOUS FREE ALCOHOL and a WHITE-HOT CROWD, was enough to prompt FURIOUS RIOTING by the assembled fans!
As the GRAY CLOAKS, local sponsors of the event, attempted to FLEE THE SCENE with their well-monied GAMBLING PATRONS, they were accosted by A COMPANY OF WARLIKE PHANTASMS. This BAND OF BLADES enacted BLOODY CARNAGE upon the fleeing vigilantes, only to TAKE FULL POSSESSION of two nearby towers at the behest of an UNKNOWN WHISPER.
Upon the conclusion of this phantasmal bloodletting, an UNNAMED NEW COMMENTATOR announced that the fighting pit (now VOID SEA WRESTLING, or V-SEA-W) was now under NEW MANAGEMENT (and, secretly, majority ownership of LORD STRANGFORD of the LEVIATHAN HUNTERS). V-Sea-W, then, will be a new frontier for the future of fighting pit wrestling and an opening battleground for a war that promises to SHAKE SIX TOWERS.
Lord Scurlock sits at a dust-covered table, gazing out upon the city from a section of broken wall. Across from him sits Lugos. Both are holding empty glasses, which appear to be cracked and dust-covered. Scurlock holds a sheet of parchment emblazoned with the crest of the Immortal Emperor, and seems to be reading off of it.
”’. . . heartiest best wishes, His Exalted Imperial Majesty blah blah etc etc.’ His sign-off, not mine, I’m afraid . . . Well, I suppose it’s nice to be remembered!”
Lugos, his every move clicking with internal clockwork, spreads his hands and mimes pulling at an invisible collar. Scurlock gives a dry laugh.
“Yes, exactly. Hence the need for all of this. We will have to move carefully, lest he-“
Abruptly, the two stand and turn to the southwest. The dry glasses fall to the ground and shatter as Lugos unfurls his hands into blades. Scurlock’s fingers erupt into obsidian claws, and his face ripples with rage and exhilaration. Just now, Orianna the Whisper has called a ghost forth from her arm and found far more than they had bargained for.
”. . . They’re coming back . . .” whispers Scurlock, almost reverently.